


A Hearthfire on a Foggy Moorland

by TwoDrunkenCelestials



Series: The Strangling Red String [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Biting, Canon Asexual Character, Collar, Cunnilingus, Dehumanization, Dildo Blowjobs, Hickies, Incest, Lonely!Jon, Lonely!Martin, M/M, Martin is a Lukas, Masochism, Masturbation, Mild sadism, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Rope Bondage, Trans!Martin, Verbal Humiliation, ace subtype?: has sex for fun and power, demisexual!Jon, gagging, nb!jon, trans!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27238492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoDrunkenCelestials/pseuds/TwoDrunkenCelestials
Summary: Jon knows the other Lukases don't approve of his and Martin's hunting methods. Their devoted marriage seems like the antithesis of the Lonely.As Peter is about to discover, their methods do more than enough to feed their god.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: The Strangling Red String [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988788
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	A Hearthfire on a Foggy Moorland

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you fataldrum for the beta, the summary, and the encouragement to keep writing this. (Alongside all you others of course!) <3 
> 
> Words used for Jon's anatomy: clit, cock, cunt  
> Words used for Martin's anatomy: cock, cunt
> 
> (NB!Jon uses He/him pronouns)

Jon is at his first family event since marrying into the Lukas family. It's a funeral for one of Martin's distant cousins, a grim sort of affair that's mostly quiet. The chatter is a low hum in the large room, the only sounds hardly anything that rises above the odd _ting_ of crystal on crystal as someone fills their punch glasses. The pale liquid, with a sort of fog rising off of it, is set on a table with a few select hors d'oeuvres.

He hangs on Martin's arm, the pair of them soft and affectionate with one another, their whispers too loud for some of the nearby aunts and uncles. Delight creeps through him, feeling the weight and disapproval of those further entrenched in the One Alone.

It's a _thrill._

He and Martin make a lovely couple, one that anywhere else would be considered normal. A bit wrapped up in one another, perhaps, but people would blame that on young love. Actual infatuation, especially after a few years married, is practically a _sin_ in the eyes of this family, though.

Jon wants to roll his eyes. It's not as if he and Martin don't feed their god; they hunt them down and lure them in, let their victims stew until they're perfect and tender for the cold embrace of the Lonely.

Neither feels like they need to prove themselves, although a little credit would be appreciated sometimes. Just because their way isn't family tradition doesn't make it 'the wrong way.’

This entire evening, Jon has felt the odd flicker of attention settling over him and Martin. It feels as hollow as the rest, but less resentful, less upset. Curious might better describe it, even a bit jealous.

Over the post-funeral meal he finally finds out who's responsible. An older gentleman, handsome in a sea-worn, pseudo-friendly sort of way. His eyes are the typical Lukas shade—the gray of deep smoke—with a tint of sea blue to them.

(He cannot help but compare them to Martin's, which are that same grey, but slightly greener, and far more alive looking. Gods, he loves his husband, could spend every day staring into those eyes, curled up and cuddling or making love.)

"Martin, who is he?" Jon murmurs, quiet in this quiet room only filled with the quieter sounds of utensils and porcelain.

Martin follows his line of sight, tilting his head a little as he, too, considers the man. "That's Uncle Peter."

("I want him," Jon tells Martin later, post coital, kissing him lazily in their bed, "He felt different, hungry and curious. I _want_ him, Martin. We could make something _lovely_ of him."

Martin smiles, and there's something sweetly predatory about it. Jon kisses him again.)

***

The second time Jon sees Peter is the first time he speaks to him. It is a few years later, and he and Martin are more experienced, perhaps a bit more respected. Jon cannot confirm that. It might simply be that the family has stopped complaining about their open affection.

He breaks away from Martin where they stand, kissing his hand and giving him a small smile. His husband knows what it means, and Jon can see the fondness in his eyes. It's Jon's turn to hunt tonight, and Martin is _hungry._

Jon makes his way over, slowly, naturally, speaking to a few of Martin's cousins and aunts along the way. A few make a bit of small talk with Jon, while most simply glare at him coldly. Jon merely smiles cheerfully in return, accepting their cold behaviour with a nod and a goodbye.

Peter has settled himself in a chair in the more secluded corner of the library, quiet and apart from the crowd. There will be no eyes on them here, he thinks. Perfect.

Jon approaches and settles himself on the plush arm of the chair. He pretends Peter isn't there for a moment, his body language deliberately set to read as bored, with a hint of sensuality.

When Peter clears his throat, pretending his eyes aren't raking over the fitted black dress Jon wears. "Are you bothering me for a reason?"

Jon has been very careful to make his ensemble both appropriate and alluring, lace sleeves and only a small neckline. The bottom half flares out, perfect for someone to kneel under and pleasure him. That had even been tested.

He laughs at Peter's comment, keeping his tone low when he responds. "I just saw your quiet corner and wanted to get away, that's all. Martin can handle the rest of the family. Sometimes they seem to disapprove, though I can't imagine _why."_

Jon plays coy, teasing and uncaring. A different sort of emotional distance than much of the family.

Peter seems to consider how to answer, and something that might nearly be called friendliness comes out. "You are… _unusual_ for this family, to say the least, but certainly interesting. You married in, did you not?"

Jon nods, casting a glance down at Peter then across the room to where he left Martin.

"I never did get your name." Jon says, extending a hand to Peter to shake. "Though I have seen you around. I'm Jon, by the way."

Peter surprises him by taking Jon's hand and kissing the back, in an almost gentlemanly sort of way. Jon finds himself a little charmed by the way Peter's lips curl up into an almost smile.

"My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Peter."

Jon eyes him over, taking him in and letting Peter know that he is. That he's judging him. He draws the moment out deliberately, before returning the smile.

"I would have sooner," Peter admits, "but you know this family."

"I do," Jon says, casting his eyes across the crowd, "very well by now. Well, as well as you Lukases will allow; my Martin being the rare exception of course." Jon loves his husband, loves to brag about him to all who will listen.

 _"Your_ Martin?" Peter chuckles, and it almost warms his face.

"Yes, _my_ Martin. Just as I'm _his_ Jon. I've staked my claim on him. That ring can attest to that, as can our vows, for all the family has its claws in him."

Jon plucks up Peter's hand in a bold move, admiring the ring finger, and running his own over the spot that would look lovely banded and claimed.

"It's strange that you haven't wed yet, despite everything. You might even enjoy the lonelier aspects of it."

"Would I?" Peter says, and shakes his head.

Jon doesn't fail to notice how long it takes for Peter to pull his hand away. He also doesn't fail to notice how Peter brushes the same over the hollow of his throat, or how he gulps down some wave of emotion.

It tastes like victory to Jon. Smells like it too, the sort of chill seeping off Peter something he and Martin are intimately familiar with.

Jon doesn't let his smile show, the flash of teeth too predatory for such a somber event.

God he wishes he could sink his claws in right here, right now. He and Martin are hungry, their god nipping at their heels. But prey must be drawn in properly. Soaked in need and sated and enjoyed before they're properly fed from.

"I think so." Jon says, rising from his spot. He deliberately shows the slip in his dress that rises to mid thigh, the way his calves look in his favourite dark red heels.

"It was nice to meet you properly," Jon murmurs, low, meant _just_ for Peter. "If you care for the company in the following days, do come visit."

Jon pulls a small slip of paper from the flat line where his cleavage ought to be. This dress does little for Jon in that regard, emphasising some of the leaner lines of his body instead. He presses the paper into Peter's hand, and turns away, giving one last parting wave.

The weight of eyes on him feels like a promise, like the beginning of a hunt.

(Once he's by Martin's side again, they share a smile and shortly thereafter take their leave. His husband smiles as they make love that night, as he covers Jon in claiming bruises on every part of him Martin can reach. Jon regales him with stories of what will be, what they can do.

Peter calls three days later; he's on their doorstep for the first time a week after that.)

***

Peter goes down so easily, Jon's hands holding him down, pressing his face to Jon's cunt. Peter laps and sucks and seems to thoroughly enjoy Jon. Jon enjoys Martin's half-lidded gaze more, as he watches Jon grind against Peter's face, using him and forcing that tongue deeper.

When his first orgasm has been wrung from him, Jon allows him to pull back. "Good," he tells Peter, "now it's Martin's turn to make use of your mouth."

Peter's face is messy, and he's panting. Jon gives him a small, dismissive pat on the cheek.

"Go one, try out Martin's cock. I'm sure you'll love it."

Peter crawls across the small space between them, over to the chair Martin is lounging in. His legs are spread wide, his beautiful, thick green silicone cock jutting out from between his legs.

Jon _loves_ that cock. Loves to see it used on their toys, see them gag on it.

Peter seems to be taking too long, seemingly hesitating, and Jon kicks him in the arse.

 _"Hurry up._ We can't wait all night for you to pluck up your courage."

Peter quickens his crawl, and almost as soon as he's in front he licks the tip before taking the thick strap-on into his mouth.

"Excellent. Good boy." Jon says, slipping his fingers down to his still wet cunt. He rubs himself, slow, savouring the slow second buildup that he knows is coming.

Peter is bobbing down on the cock, Martin patiently waiting, his fingers tightly threaded through Peter's hair. Only the messy sounds and the low moans fill the room, the quiet abruptly shattered by Martin forcing his cock deep as it can go into Peter's throat. The man gags as Martin allows him to pull back for a moment.

"Aren't you a good cockslut? Could be better trained, though." Martin's voice is sweet, "We can help you with that, can't we, Jon?"

Martin meets Jon's eyes as he forces Peter back down onto his cock, the smile curling his mouth sending pleasant shivers down Jon's spine.

"Oh, we certainly can. Would you like that, Peter?" Jon promises, adding more pressure to his clit.

Peter moans what might or might not be an affirmative even as Martin fucks his mouth, using Peter as the toy he is.

Martin is getting closer, the half of the cock buried in his cunt driving him closer to the edge. Jon can see the way his muscles tense, the crease of his eyes and the tenseness of Martin's jaw both telltale signs.

The moaning too, half words, and mostly Jon's name, are also good cues.

Jon slides three fingers into his own cunt, his other hand furiously rubbing his clit so he can try and time his orgasm with Martin's.

The last thrust buries Martin deeper than before, and Jon can see the bulge in Peter's throat where the cock fills it. Martin's knuckles are white and his cry guttural as he comes, hips rocking with the beginnings of subtle aftershocks.

Jon himself comes not long after, the sound more than his own touch sending him tumbling over the edge. He cries Martin's name, focused solely on his husband.

When all three are recovering, Peter and Martin gathering their breath, Jon speaks. His voice is husky, his eyes wandering from Peter's red lips down to his leaking cock.

"An excellent start to an evening, don't you think, Peter? Now come here, we have more plans for you…"

***

Peter is bound to the bed, each arm and leg tied to a different post.

The result is lovely, Jon thinks, the bright bloody red of the rope a sharp contrast to Peter's too pale skin. His legs are spread, his hard cock fully exposed and showing its full length.

"Look at that cock, straining to escape. Do you want to ride it first, Martin?" Jon runs his fingers over the length, light as a feather.

Peter shivers and bucks, the gag muffling his low and helpless moan. Martin is on the other side, brushing his hand over Peter's collared throat. His grip isn't tight, but one finger is tucked just under the leather band, a cold finger against Peter's colder skin.

"I think you should first." Martin says, pulling the collar up a little. It draws a gasp, muffled, out of Peter.

Jon, utterly wet, completely _sopping,_ nods. "Give him his paces."

"He does need to be tested. Just to see if he's worth keeping around." Martin admits, coyly flicking at one of Peter's pert nipples.

There's another one of those lovely groans that shifts into a higher, muffled whine as Jon mounts Peter and sinks onto his cock.

It feels so good, Jon's aching hole stretching around their new toy in just the right way as he settles fully on it. Peter's cock is cold, too, but only a little chillier than Jon's cunt. It's a side effect of their shared god, of course; but Jon runs hotter, according to Martin, than most who are associated with the Lukases.

He wastes no time, rising up and using Peter like the toy he is. Martin, close by, stokes Jon's needy cock even as he rides Peter.

Jon's moans start low then rise, a chorus to match Peter's almost pained moans. Martin switches his attention firmly to Jon, only pinching Peter on the thigh, then his nipple when his moan sounds too pleasured.

"You are a toy, Peter. Remember that." Martin says, stern, his eyes still on Jon and Jon alone.

Jon shivers, closing his eyes and savouring the contrast that rises in the air between the three of them. Peter's loneliness manifesting itself, a feast as much as Martin's devotion.

He is Martin's world. Martin is his world. Even as his orgasm creeps closer, and the walls of his cunt start to flutter and clutch at Peter's cock harder, all Jon cares about is his Martin.

Martin's fingers, so clever and perfect, stroke and tease Jon until he cries out. It's Martin's name, almost wordless, that slips out.

Peter can feel it, seems almost like he's about to come a moment after Jon. A sharp pinch from Martin nips that in the bud, leaving a small, red welt where his nails dug in.

"No. You don't get to come until we both do. Understand?" Martin says, and Peter nods.

Jon is still settled on Peter's hard cock, unmoving, just letting it fill him. He runs a finger from Peter's navel down to where their bodies meet. Peter arches into the touch.

"Your cock is still smaller than I prefer," Jon says, twisting his hips a little to draw a sort of punched out huff out of Peter. "But better than some others we've had. I bet you'd like to breed me like the animal you are, wouldn't you?"

The expression Peter wears is a pinched sort of pleasure, like this is something he wants but would never admit to.

"Don't be ashamed," Martin assures him, something sweet and mocking in his tone, "We expected that of you. Jon told me how you looked at him that second meeting. And how you stared at him over our lovely dinner."

Martin strokes Peter's chest, before digging his nails into his stomach. "Just remember this: Jon is mine. I am his. You are merely... _a plaything_ for us. But you like that, don't you? Standing apart, being _used_ and _thrown away."_

Peter has only gotten harder inside him, Jon notes, watching the man twist his wrists a little desperately.

"He certainly does," Jon says, rolling his hips again, "a slut through and through."

He pulls himself off Peter's cock, already missing it. But Martin deserves a ride too, and Martin is so good at breaking their new toys so they can shape them together. Peter will no doubt be more challenging, but a worthy long term keepsake for them to call when they want him.

Peter whines are of loss too, and looks thoroughly embarrassed by the sound. Martin pats him almost fondly. He kisses Jon as he crawls up and takes his place, sinking down with the same ease Jon did.

"You look so beautiful," he tells Martin, soft and adoring, "Your cunt looks so good stretched around his cock."

Peter's eyes meet his when he looks back, dropping to his exposed cunt. _Ah,_ Jon realizes, a click of understanding at Peter's hungry expression. He removes the gag, dropping it on the bed above Peter's head.

He kneels, his cunt firmly over Peter's free mouth, positioning himself to suck and tease at Martin's perfect cock that stands out from under its hood. Martin moans, and starts to fuck himself roughly on Peter's cock, digging one hand into Jon's hair and the other into Peter's hip.

As Peter begins to lick Jon's cunt like a man starving, their shared breathy moans fill the room again. The scent of seawater and sex as fog slips in and surrounds them, wrapping them in the sweet chill of their dead god.

***

They leave Peter there, gag still tossed to the side, with only his left hand bound, after they've thoroughly ridden and used him. The Lonely still lingers in the bedroom; the fog in the master bathroom has an entirely different source, as they shower, letting the heat warm them up.

They take turns cleaning one another, Martin thoroughly enjoying ensuring that every inch of Jon is clean, and that he has a few more bite marks and bruises to show just who he belongs to.

That isn't to say that Martin escapes with his skin bare, oh no. Jon covers Martin in his own marks. It's a sort of ritual they've developed, after fucking others. Removing any traces of what's happened and showing off who truly has the power and sense of belonging in their bedroom.

They only towel off, reentering their room naked and clean. Peter glances over at them, clearly admiring them again. Martin can see his eyes focusing on their marks, some old and some new, a strange longing on his face that appears almost as quickly as it is shut down.

 _Good,_ he thinks, pleased, wrapping an arm around Jon to pull him in for a slow, sensual kiss. Even without looking, Martin knows Peter is looking, despite himself.

"Do you want to stay the night, pet?" Jon asks, leading Martin to the bed. They only let go for a moment to climb on, and cozy up on either side of Peter.

Peter shifts, clearly uncomfortable, clearly trapped. He doesn't say anything, just opens his mouth like he wants to object, before Jon places a single finger on his lips to shush him.

"It's here or tied to the end of the bed so you can sleep at our feet."

Jon makes here— _between them_ —sound like the better of the two; but it is lonelier, in a sense. A toy, a _doll_ trapped between two helplessly, hopelessly devoted lovers. You can't get more alone than that and Peter knows it. Craves it in a way he can't quite hide.

"I'll-I'll stay here," Peter says, soft, vulnerable. Jon smiles a shark's smile, leaning up to loosen the rope some for all their sakes'. He settles back against Peter's side, taking Martin's hand over Peter's solid mass.

It's Martin who pulls covers over the three of them, allowing pillows only for Jon and himself. No use in the toy getting any ideas yet. After all, he'll have to earn permission to use such comforts, aside from the blanket, in this bed.

"Good toy." Martin tells Peter, pressing a kiss to his back. Peter flinches away, and then back toward Martin. Jon must have kissed him too, and that pleases Martin somewhere deep and cruel. Marking Peter for them, their cold affection like a brand that will someday last. Or, at least he _hopes._

Either way, this is just the beginning.

"Goodnight Jon, I love you, my darling. Goodnight, pet."

Jon echoes the sentiment, affection like a warm blanket wrapped around Martin next to the lonely man trapped between them. Martin leans over to flick the lights off, and lets the night settle over the three of them, carrying promises of more distance, more pleasure, more _use,_ for all three of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you kind folks for reading this! This is a piece of pure ID that demanded to be written. It's been a while in the works and I have more planned for this AU. Some fluffier, some just as filthy.
> 
> Keep your eyes peeled!


End file.
